When I'm Gone
by CluelessKitten
Summary: She wanted to say she was scared. That she didn't want to die. But she felt Batman's hand in hers and she told herself she would be fine and they would be, too. She didn't know she would be wrong. (Genderbent Wally - sort of pairing)
1. Toll of the Bells

_~When I'm Gone~_

* * *

,

,

He'd shot her in the neck, the bastard.

Wally fell forward, clutching her throat as the room exploded into chaos. Her teammates went berserk against Lex and all his hired minions. The noise crashed together in her ears as a loud buzz as her hands grew slick with her own blood.

She couldn't even speak.

Large, strong arms hoist her up and she jerked. Wally was injured – _dying_ but she tried not to think about that – vulnerable and the last thing she wanted was some hired fist manhandling her while her friends were otherwise distracted.

"G….n-o…" She choked on her blood. Still clutching her neck, as if it would somehow ease the blood flow, Wally rested her head against the person's chest. Holding her head up just … hurt too much.

She wheezed.

"Easy, now."

At first, she didn't recognize it. It did ring familiar, though, and for a moment, her heart stuttered as she wondered if it was Lex. But … no, it was too deep.

She tilted her head up, ignoring the pain.

Ah, so it was Batman. Good old Bats. Ever the reliable one, he was probably the only team member who could get away with sneaking out of the fight.

She relaxed. If he was going to take her anywhere, it would be somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet, while the rest of them fought. Good thinking, Bats.

Finally, a few rooms away, he carefully set Wally down and began looking at her wound. Weakly, she tried to wave him away with her good hand but he simply snapped disapproving words and she let him be. Not like anything she could have said would have made a difference.

But God, she wished she could speak. Even if his cowl covered a little more than half his face, he looked … grim. And angry. Very, very angry. Wally wanted to tell him that she'd be fine even if it was such a complete lie that a ten-year-old could have called her out on it. But she'd tell him that, if she could, tell him that it was fine to rejoin the others, she would just take a break back here. She could wait.

Batman cursed. He cradled Wally's head in his lap as he inspected her throat, at the hold the bullet tore open. Ever so slightly, his fingers shook.

"Flash, I need to take your mask down."

She couldn't answer, couldn't even nod or shake her head properly. It was completely pathetic. But she looked into where his eyes were hidden, pleading, begging, _please save me_ and he practically ripped the hood of her suit off.

Whatever wisps of her hair that hadn't stuck to her damp forehead were let loose and it felt so beautiful not to have it sticking to her scalp. Now, if only she wasn't hurting so bad…

Wally tried to hold herself still as Batman stayed with her but her mind wandered. She hurt and the edges of her vision were getting curiously dark. She couldn't see past the dark, couldn't make it go away. Her lungs, burning for more air than she could give, screamed its exhaustion.

"Flash…"

It almost sounded like a sob. But that was wrong because Batman didn't cry. Batman was stoic, strong, independent and he was … he was…

She startled as his fingers wiped away the tears overflowing from her eyes.

She was going to die, wasn't she? Here, in one of Lex's buildings, with her friends fighting a few rooms away. But that seemed so removed from the now, from the silence of the room. Batman had picked a really good spot. Did dying always take this long? Or was it just her perception of time messing with her? She didn't have the energy to quite tell anymore.

Bravely, she opened her eyes a little wider and saw Batman, albeit sideways. His lips were moving and suddenly, she realized that he was talking. That he'd been talking the entire time. It wasn't the informative sort of talking, but his voice was gentler than she ever remembered hearing it. Sort of rough instead of gruff – and urgent.

"…We'll take you to the medical bay as soon as we're done here, you'll have the best medical personnel looking after you so don't worry, just hold on, Flash, just hold on…"

He was … begging her, almost, and she wanted to weep. The world really was ending – or, well, _she_ was, anyway. She was dying, could feel herself slipping away, no matter how hard she tried to hold on, no matter what Batman said.

Wally was leaving. Whether either of them liked it or not.

And she cried. _I'm scared_.

If she could speak, she'd beg. She'd whimper. She didn't want to die – especially not like this. Not slowly, not in front of her friend and one of the people she'd grown to admire and respect so much.

God, she loved her team. How could she leave them? Just a little more time, she begged the growing darkness. Just wait.

But it didn't wait. It crept into her vision, darkened her sight.

And then warmth in her hand. Warmth that wasn't wet, wasn't her blood. A little effort allowed her to see that it was Batman's hands holding hers. She – ah, she had been grasping empty air. She hadn't even realized.

"Damn it, Flash, _fight_! We can still get you to the medical bay." Batman's voice was authoritative, full of everything that made people obey.

But death wasn't like most people.

"No!" He sounded angry, so angry and desperate. However weakly, Wally squeezed his hand. Trying to say it was alright. Everything's okay. "No, _Flash_!"

Trying to say thank you because she didn't want to even imagine dying alone.

And, painful though it was, she gave him the best, most genuine smile she could muster up. Because he was here and that was enough, even if she was still afraid. She could face anything as long as she was with her team. They were family, and as long as they had each other, they would pull through.

No, she didn't need to worry about them.

And she smiled.

,

In a nondescript room of an underground facility, Wally West died. She didn't know that Batman stayed with her long until the fight was over and their teammates started searching for them. She didn't see Green Lantern and Superman's faces when they saw her, nor hear Hawkgirl's anguished cry. Her corpse did not protest as Wonder Woman disbelievingly took her pulse and checked her breathing over and over. She didn't feel Batman gently wiping blood off her face and tucking stray strands of her hair behind her ears all the while.

She wasn't there when her team fell apart and she wasn't there when they gathered together again. Wally never saw their anger grow as their hearts hardened. They remade the world into one where she might have survived – or they tried to – but it was one she would never live in and every victory seemed tinged by bitterness of those that came too late.

And every night after she was gone, Batman searched for her. Across the multiple universes and dimensions, he looked for her smile again.

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* * *

 **Author's Note** : Yes, I know, I should be continuing Residue not starting a new fic. Unfortunately, during the depression brought about by my final exams, inspiration came and, well, now we have this.

This is my first time writing for the Justice League fandom so I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for reading my fic.


	2. Grief

_~When I'm Gone~_

* * *

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It was J'onn who found them first. He felt their presence in the next room but there was something heavy in that kept him from calling out to the others. Instead, he cautiously walked towards the doorway.

"Batman, you have not been answering the team's calls. The others are still looking–"

His words died in his throat as he entered and saw it.

A pool of blood spilled out onto the white floor. In the midst of it, Batman sat, hunched over a familiarly-costumed body. Faintly, he could hear his teammate whispering things to it, promises to an empty shell.

J'onn would have liked to say that it was an unfamiliar scene. It was a surprise, certainly, but he had seen this too often already. Quietly, he made his approach to the man in a cowl. When he was close enough, he went down on one knee.

"Batman."

He looked up then and his eyes looked dazed. Wary, J'onn placed a hand on the man's shoulder. He did not trust his teammate's emotional state – it was far too unstable for his comfort – but if he did not ease the brewing storm, his friend may implode anyway.

"She's dead, J'onn," Batman murmured, still covering the top half of the body he cradled in his arms. "She's gone."

He had guessed. Her presence was no longer in the room. "Let me see her."

For a second, Batman's visible features twisted and J'onn became highly afraid he would say no. But then, reluctantly, his human friend withdrew, resting his back against the wall as J'onn forced himself to look at the corpse of his teammate.

It was not a pleasant sight. The Flash's hood had been taken down and for the first time, J'onn saw the face of his teammate. Her ginger hair splayed out around her, some brushing her shoulders and some covered in dry blood. There were smudged red marks on her face from Batman's fingers wiping away the blood that had trickled from her mouth. Her throat was damaged to such an extent he doubted any hospital could have saved her.

But most of all, she was young. Younger than the Batman or Superman… by the Earth's standards, she was only a child standing on the brink of adulthood and maybe not even then.

To the father inside him, it was the greatest tragedy.

"She should not have fought so young." The words were said before he could stop himself. He could only be thankful that it did not sound as accusing as he felt. Children should not fight battles; they were why battles were fought.

Her eyes, green eyes, stared into the empty space, and eternal smile etched on her lips.

Unable to bear their gaze, J'onn gently closed her eyes for her.

"She was afraid."

J'onn glanced at his broken friend. Batman's eyes stared at nothing, as if trying to see what she saw. Finally, his empty eyes wandered to J'onn.

"She wanted me to hold her hand, so I did."

"She was not alone when she left us," J'onn remarked. An empty reassurance but a reassurance no less. "You were there to comfort her when she needed companionship the most."

And Batman was silent. All reassurances were empty to him. J'onn contacted the others through their mental link, trying to remain impassive as he did so. Being emotional now … was not good. He remained still as they waited for the others to arrive.

,

In the end, Diana was the most difficult. She denied the fading warmth in their teammate and persistently checked for life while Batman sat back, impassive for as long as no one tried taking the Flash's body from him.

"She's gone, Diana," Hawkgirl said softly.

Eventually, she gave up. Wonder Woman, for all her abilities, could not bring their dead friend back. Although, J'onn reflected, it would have been unwise to do so even if they could have.

In the back of the room, farthest away from the Flash, stood Superman. He wore an unreadable expression but there was turmoil inside him. Guilt. Perhaps it was not misplaced – Luthor was, after all, the murderer. And was it not Superman's responsibility, time and again, to keep that madman from achieving his schemes?

…He should not think like this.

Finally, Green Lantern said, "We have to go."

At first, Batman seemed not to have heard, simply clearing the Flash's hair away from her face once more. But then, he hooked his arm under her legs and stood, cradling her to his chest. Protective.

J'onn wondered at it but did not probe his friend's emotions concerning the matter. They all had their own ways of grieving.

They may have left but it took more than half an hour before they could convince Batman to give up the Flash's body up to the hospital staff.

None of them slept properly for a long time afterwards.

,

An inordinate amount of people came to the funeral. Personally, J'onn would have preferred something smaller, more private, but Flash was a well-loved hero and there were more than a few of those who wanted to pay their respects.

Tension strung tightly wound wires inside their entire team. Every morning, J'onn woke with an expectation: that he would see his _entire_ team. It would fade, he knew. Another life lost to time. A hurt that, while still not comparable to the loss of his entire home planet, was nonetheless fresh and painful.

He missed her odd jokes.

She had promised to take him to a newly opened 'pasta place' in Central City.

Their team grew too somber without her and J'onn worried for their future – if they still had one.

When the funeral was over and done, they went their separate ways. Batman had grown even more unwelcoming over the past few days and even the others were distant. J'onn found himself wanting to be alone as well, for now, and he retreated to the Watchtower.

But even that was painful. The others' lives went largely untouched by the rest of their teammates but the Watchtower, where J'onn currently lived, was filled with memories. Memories that seemed hazy now, and as far away as those peaceful years on Mars.

Silent, J'onn approached the chair the Flash often frequented. He touched it, felt its texture beneath his hands. And he bowed his head and mourned his friend.

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* * *

 **Author's Not** e: Wow! Thank you so much for your feedback! It means so much to me that you liked it.

Okay, confession time: I originally thought this up as a genderbent Flash-centered humor fic mainly composed of largely unrelated one-shots. Turns out, it's still female Flash-centered but minus the humor. I do plan to continue this but probably not more than 5 or 10 chapters. I might put something funny and lighthearted at some point because I really, really want to but for the most part, this fic will be riding the steam engine of Tragedy.

And on a last note: Thank you for reading this fic!


	3. The First Step

_~When I'm Gone~_

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Clark never hurt anyone with his strength. He never used his super-hearing for leverage in his civilian life, he never used his identity as Superman to Lois so she would finally look at him… He'd always believed in doing the right thing. He'd always believed in right and wrong.

He stared at Flash's face. She looked asleep, almost, as if she was still alive. As if, at any moment, she would open her bright green eyes and say 'gotcha!'. It wouldn't have been a good joke, not at all the kind that she made, but he would have taken it. It would have been welcome.

Please, let all this be a joke.

The funeral parlor had done well by Flash, if he expected her to come alive at any minute. Clark noted how they'd covered up the bullet wound with the collar of the dress. It was a nice dress, blue, flattering. Who picked it out?

"Wally West," he mouthed. She was a college student somehow balancing a day job with her classes just to get by. By night, she donned a red suit and called herself the Flash.

And now, she was dead.

For all the people he'd saved, Superman couldn't protect his own teammate. For all his ideals and strengths, none of it mattered. That day he saw Batman bent, broken, over the Flash's corpse, Clark had no strength.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, head bent low.

She never did wake up.

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Starting World War III. That was an accomplishment, even for Luthor.

"None of this was enough for you, was it?" Clark walked across the floor, gesturing at the office. "You had to have it all." He would never understand someone like Lex. He never wanted to.

He hadn't arrived with the intention of killing anyone. But when Luthor started talking, shifting everything into a different light, casting all of the blame onto Clark…

In a way, he was right. If Superman did what he had to do, wouldn't the world be such an easier place to live in? No more worrying about escaped criminals, less criminal activity, and finally attaining a peace that wasn't tainted by the expectation of a jailbreak.

But by allowing even the worst of criminals to live, _knowing_ that they'd escape? Wasn't he – wasn't the entire Justice League – guilty of every death that followed?

Wasn't Clark the one who killed Wally West?

Maybe. Maybe not. Superman had believed in second chances, once.

Never again.

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	4. Acceptance

_~When I'm Gone~_

* * *

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Two years later, Bruce still looked for her.

"Obsessive", Dick had called it when he managed to figure it out, a faint expression of pity on his face. But a slight disgust had been present because, well … even Bruce knew this was extreme. Building a machine that allowed him to peer into other dimensions for the sake of finding a dead girl more than a decade younger than he was wasn't a healthy way of coping. It wasn't coping at all.

But he'd had to know. Was there a universe where Wally West still lived as the Flash?

In theory, yes – there _should_ be. But that possibility was one in millions. And so, he spent two years searching for that one.

He sifted through differing timelines and outcomes, seeing better futures, seeing worse ones. He saw a future wherein his parents still lived at the cost of his own life. It was … not what he had imagined. His father as Batman and his mother, the Joker?

He never looked into that universe again.

There were good realities but if their team didn't exist there, he saw no point in lingering. He made the mistake of doing so only once. For a week, he'd watched his and other's lives, how it would have been if the earth was more … peaceful. There, he'd been a doctor, and Clark had never gone to Earth. Wally was in college, struggling to support herself. John was still part of the Lanterns Corp. but was less active on Earth and had more off-world cases. J'onn had lived and died long ago on Mars.

Then the Thanagarians invaded and he moved on.

It took two years but Bruce was a patient man.

When he found her, relief coursed through his veins. She was alive there, wherever 'there' was and he found himself watching her interact with her team. Nostalgia stabbed his chest but he forced himself to see what he – what _they'd_ – lost.

Two years. She would have been twenty-one. Just old enough to drink.

Was this Flash twenty-one years old? Some timelines ran differently than theirs and it was hard to tell. Bruce watched her and decided that, yes, she was also twenty-one.

God, that was still so young. And she was still the vulnerable one. She didn't have invulnerability or super-strength or even armor and her body could only take so much damage.

 _-Blood trickles out of her mouth as she tries to keep breathing-_

In that world, they'd done nothing to permanently end their villains and they all kept a cycle that sickened Bruce. So many attempts on their lives, one terrible mistake was enough to end them. They apprehended the criminals, put them in jail, and just a little while later, those same criminals would break out again. Rinse and repeat.

 _-She looks at him with the large, terrified eyes of a child in pain and he could only watch-_

They were inefficient and their world suffered for it. How many deaths could they have avoided if they'd just decided to bear the weight of the choices they needed to make? What more did they need?

 _-He might have sobbed when, somehow, she smiled at him with bloody lips, he's not sure, and when did she stop breathing-_

If they went on like that, if they allowed criminals loose so often… the risks were so high. Not that any of them minded that – Bruce doubted any Justice League member would ever regret putting their lives on the line for the world – but it was a point of concern for him.

After almost two years, he'd found her and he was going to be damned if Luthor or anyone else made a repeat of that day again.

He accessed the team's communications signal.

"I need you to take a look at something."

,

The only regretful part was that they had to knock out their alternate selves. But they wouldn't understand the favor the Justice Lords were doing for them, not now. Not while the Justice League, as a team, was still largely unmarred.

Bruce knew their eyes only opened after they buried Flash.

" _What_?" Wally snapped. She glared at him, still defiant, even within her own cell.

"You'll appreciate this someday," Bruce promised. He looked at her just a little more closely. Some of the baby fat had gone away after two years and had she grown taller?

She scoffed. "I don't think Hawkgirl's going to appreciate it too much."

" _That_ was an accident. She-"

But Wally wouldn't even look at him. "I don't wanna hear it."

"Believe me," Bruce intoned, "The last thing we want to do is lose another–"

"–Another what?"

Suppressing a sigh, Bruce was about to turn away when she spoke again.

" _What_ don't you want to lose, Bats?"

And he stopped. He couldn't help himself.

 _Hey, Bats, heads up!_

 _C'mon, Bats, just one photo. Every else is gonna be in it._

 _I'm not backing down on this, Bats_.

He never thought he'd hear that nickname again. And he looked through the glass and he saw _her_. Bloody and dying, superimposed against the healthy, if angry, girl restrained to an X. His heart beating hard in his chest, Bruce punched in the pass code. He stepped into the cell.

As he looked down on her, Wally looked incredibly small and intimidated. Maybe she had a right to, all things considered, but he didn't want that look on her. Not because of him.

Slowly, deliberately, Bruce raised his hands to her mask. But he hesitated when she flinched.

"Flash, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Funny you'd say that."

Bruce gave Wally a level gaze and something resigned crept into her. She was helpless now but he only needed them restrained for as long as they refused to see the truth.

He wouldn't find her just to keep her in a cell forever.

Gently, he pulled her suit's hood off, exposing the face that had haunted him for so long.

Wally yelped. "What do you think you're _doing_?"

At once, her teammates reacted.

" _Flash_!" the other Batman called out, alarmed. "What's happening?"

"I don't know what you're doing, you sick bastard, but–" yet Green Lantern's voice and Wonder Woman's unintelligible oath were drowned out by a wordless roar from Superman.

And Bruce ignored them all. Wally was seemingly trying to burrow herself as far into the metal that held her up as possible. There just wasn't anywhere for her to go.

Gently, he took her face into his hands. He murmured, "I held you like this when you died."

Wally stared at him, hardly daring to move or breathe.

"He shot you right…" Bruce drew out the moment, letting one hand drop down to her exposed neck, lightly touching the spot the bullet had torn through. "…Here." He'd memorized that spot. He still had the bullet. "I managed to carry you away from the fight but we couldn't leave the building." His eyes went back to hers. Bruce forced himself to keep his grip relaxed – her eyes were just the same as their Flash's. "I held your hand while you bled to death in my arms."

Wally swallowed. Bruce wasn't surprised – he'd said so much. Too much.

She leaned forward slightly. Urgently, she said, "But I'm not her."

Bruce's eyes dimmed. "I am aware. You're still alive." After a moment, he added, "Your world isn't safe but we're going to make it better."

"No, Bats, listen to me." And she leaned forward, so close to him. Absurdly, she looked worried. "We're all doing just fine on our world. I mean, just look at me!" He already was and she seemed to realize that as she made an embarrassed sound in her throat. "Uh, what I mean is that … I'm fine. Everyone's fine. We don't need the help. _Really_."

"We thought we could take whatever came our way, as well." Bruce hesitated before cautiously saying, "You grew your hair out."

She stared at him. But it was true. Her auburn hair no longer brushed her shoulders, instead reaching a more few inches down. Carefully, just like on that day, he tucked a lock behind her ear, away from her face. It wasn't bloody this time.

Feeling relieved and somehow burdened at the same time, he rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cupping her face. "Wally, you're still so young…"

Her eyes trapped in his, she whispered, "How do you know my name?"

"We had to bury you," he reminded her gently.

"No, that's … Batman, she's _not_ me!" she whispered earnestly. "And I am _not_ _her_."

Backing off slightly, Bruce began tucking Wally's hair back into the hood of her suit. "I don't need you to remind me of that," he said shortly as he pulled the mask over her eyes. He poked loose strands of hair into the edges.

"That's not how you do it."

The banter was on the tip of his tongue but he caught it. Wally wasn't in the mood for that sort of thing right now. He wasn't worried – she couldn't stay angry forever. It wasn't in her nature. He just had to wait it out, until she saw the truth.

He walked away, keenly feeling the other version of him trying to glare holes into his back.

,

Bruce forgot how persistent the Flash could be. Even after everyone else had given up fighting against their restraints, she still struggled.

And then her heart stopped.

He abandoned the monitors, dashing towards her cell before he was too late. This couldn't happen again, not _again_.

"Flash. _Flash_!"

He unlocked the restraint on her hand–

And had just enough time to recognize his mistake before she knocked him out. When he woke up to an empty room, trapped in his own restraints, an odd, stilted laugh made its way out of him. Because _of course_.

Of course.

,

Bruce wasn't surprised when the other version of him decided to take him on alone. They were one and the same, mostly. The same moves, the same tricks up their sleeves… Except Bruce knew he was right. Even his other version had to concede his point.

And then they went outside. His world was cleaner now, more organized – _better_. Until his other version pointed out the flaws, the fine lines, drawing up old doubts as they drove through the streets.

"They'd be _so_ proud of you."

"…Just drive."

Maybe he'd already known the outcome of all this. Maybe he just didn't want to see it. Would his father have wanted this sort of world? Peaceful but without autonomy, and resentment growing underneath the surface? Were the sacrifices worth it?

"What did you do to her?" the other him finally asked with narrowed eyes on the road. "In the containment cell, what did you do?"

"Nothing."

"It didn't _sound_ like nothing."

"She panicked when I came too close. But I didn't hurt her."

"But _what did you do_?"

Bruce glared at his other self. Whatever exactly did he want him to admit?

In the silence, his other self's fingers tightened their hold over the steering wheel. Taking it as some sort of admission, he supposed. And perhaps it was, if he couldn't even give a proper reply.

"You've never seen her die," Bruce finally said, quietly. "Have you realized how young she is, without her bravado, without the mask? Do you know already?" He looked out the window, at a child holding her mother's hand as they walked on the sidewalk. "She was afraid when she died. She was in pain. _And there was nothing I could do but watch_."

"So you made this world for her."

"We did this for everyone."

"No." And the other him looked him straight in the eye. " _You_ didn't."

Fair enough. "Keep your eyes on the road."

"You didn't answer my question: In the cell, what did you do to Flash?"

"Her name is Wally West." It was as if he could _hear_ his other self grinding his teeth at the almost absent-minded reply.

"I am aware," the other Bruce gritted out, "But as my teammate, she is the _Flash_. What did you do to her?"

He paused. "I unmasked her, and made her face her own mortality. I had hoped it would make her understand."

"Did it?"

"…No."

"Of course not." Something relieved crept into the other Batman's voice, and was there a hint of a smirk? "She would never want this."

"She's too young to comprehend the decisions we've had to make for the sake of actual peace."

"I think she's old enough."

"A nice sentiment," Bruce scoffed, "Until you see her in a casket."

"It does always come back to that, doesn't it?" Once more, his other self looked at Bruce with piercing eyes. "The Flash. Wally West. Her death."

"And?"

"It makes me think that there's something … more than what you're telling me."

"Isn't there?"

"Not in my world."

Bruce glanced at the man driving them to Arkham. Considered the past and his words, flipping them over in his head. "A pity."

For a long while, they sat in silence. Then, finally, his other said, "She will never want what you've done to the world."

Bruce opened his mouth to protest the statement but the other Batman interrupted with deadening finality:

" _Never_."

,

One more time, he had to see Wally leave.

But this wasn't like last time. Because she was alive, because she had her team going with her. And she wanted to go. She wasn't afraid.

 _Damn_ the other Bruce for convincing him.

Wally stopped in front of Bruce, lingering while the others walked into the portal. She opened her mouth, as if she meant to say something, but no sound left. Her words died along the way and it left her staring helplessly at him, trying to convey something she couldn't give voice to.

And then, cautiously, she wrapped her arms around him. The side of her face buried in his suit, she said, "Batman – _my_ batman – told me."

That was nice. More than nice. Bruce registered the warmth from her body, the beat of her heart as he wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to take her mask off and see her face one last time but that would take too long and she needed to leave now.

Gently, he put his hands on her face again, encouraging her to look up at him. The lenses made it a bit harder to see, but he knew her green eyes watched him curiously behind them.

He gave her forehead a tender kiss.

And then he let her go.

His alternate self still lingered. The expression on his face, what little of it could be seen, was a blank slate and even he could only guess at the emotions behind them. Was he disapproving? Jealous? Sympathetic? Pitying?

Finally, Bruce said, "Whether you love her or not … take care of her."

The man gave only a curt nod. And then he left.

Bruce was alone. But after a moment's worth of self-pity, he straightened up. There was work to be done.

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* * *

 **Author's Note** : So, it _sort of_ became a pairing in the end? Yeah, I guess. I didn't know about a way to write around it, though, or maybe I could have but I liked this outcome a bit too much. Batman should have his own scale of grieving, actually: "From 1 to I'll build a machine that looks into alternate universes, look for one where you're still alive, and then lure you into my dimension so I can kidnap you and hold you in a cell until you see things my way, how do you cope with loss?" Seriously. You don't just do that for anyone.


	5. Promise Me

_~When I'm Gone~_

* * *

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"Batman."

He turned away the monitor, towards a troubled-looking teammate. "Yes?"

Flash had been … uncomfortable in the days after their visit to the other universe. It gave her a new way of looking at things that, frankly, seemed to disturb her. Admittedly, his response towards that fact had been somewhat minimal, manifesting in arranging monitor duty together with her. But it was important that she decide to talk to someone about it, if she wanted to, and not have someone press the issue. And so, he'd waited.

"In that other universe we went to, how did it get so bad? Was it really … just because of me?" She glanced at him nervously, a smile flitting on her lips. "I mean, come on! Obviously, there had to have been some other differences there that made it more likely to happen, right?"

He didn't respond as she continued to speak.

"And, like, _our_ Superman would never kill Luthor – he'd never kill _anyone_. I … none of you would change because of _me_ , right?" She turned to him, desperation thick in her voice. Asking him to please, _please_ agree, please say yes, please say you won't turn out like them.

Bruce turned back to the monitors. He couldn't look at her as he said, "You overestimate our virtues."

Seated in the computer chair, the Flash spun herself around like a child. "I think you underestimate them. Would _you_ do it?"

"Not now."

She stopped her antics and stared at him. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Things like the Justice Lords don't happen overnight. They … spiral downwards. Slowly. It took two years for them." Bruce looked at the reflection on the monitor. "It's not something so noticeable once it starts. But it gets easier after the first incident. Then, you commit another and another…"

"I wouldn't let that happen."

"No." Satisfaction settled into Bruce's voice. "You wouldn't."

"Yeah." Wally smiled. "And now that we know what'll happen in the future if you all go off the rails like that, you won't end up that way. Right?"

Batman fell silent. How could he agree to something like that? Flash's smile wavered and then disappeared.

"Hey," she said softly. "You won't go all … dictator-y if I die, will you?" When she received no reply, she drew herself together. "Well, I'm here right now and I'll say it: if something does happen – to me–"

"Nothing will happen to you."

"But if something _does_ ," she insisted. "I don't want you guys to turn into the Justice Lords. Promise me that you won't."

Could Bruce promise something like that? He hesitated.

" _Promise me_."

For a long while, he simply looked at her. But then finally, reluctantly, he nodded. "I promise you."

She whooped. "One possible bad ending averted!"

Still facing the monitors, Bruce watched her out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be making a lot of promises lately.

… _Take care of her_.

He looked at his Flash – happy, alive, humming a commercial song under her breath as she watched the monitors. And for one moment, he allowed himself a tiny smile, relaxing as they settled into an ordinary evening.

,

,

* * *

 **Author's Note** : And that's it. Thank you so much for reading this fanfic! I'm sorry if any errors were left even after editing and I'll try to fix them as soon as I can find them. Constructive criticism always helps, although for obvious reasons, the characters are OoC, though I've tried to keep it to a minimum. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as or even more than I enjoyed writing it!


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